Karate Baby

Look out, yal!

KARATE BABY is gonna kick your ass!

Just look at him! He's powering up to give you a MIGHTY MIGHTY ass whoopin!

ARH2006: The Final Costume Dress.

Well, today we ran the final dress rehearsal for ARH2006. Rebar and I used my camera and caught some lovely shots of the characters in the show in full costume. (At least the ones who were around at the time that we were taking pics.) I thought I'd include them here, in case you wanted to check them out.

The show is smart.
And perfectly timed.
And brilliantly well written.
And so subtly acted.
And so firmly entrenched in the period.

I can't wait for an audience to see this thing. I think they're going to go nuts for it. I wish there was a way to get more folks in the house. Ah well, too late to worry about that.

Included in the pics is the final look for my French hedonistic Master Voice Impressionist, Maurice "TuTu" LaMarche! I love his look. This is a guy who either try to have sex with you or sell you something that you don't need. Either way, he's not to be trusted. And that's the point, isn't it?

Well, that and every frenchman needs a beret, right?

Enjoy,
Mr.B


Maurice "Tutu" LaMarche loves a handful of oranges.


TuTu and the All American girl, Molly Baker.


Veteran Radioman, Packy Savoy!


The host of the show and Man of the Hour, Charles Cordova!

Finally, here's our esteemed director stopping by to give us some last minute notes. Please note that he wore this "outfit" for every rehearsal. But he would never tell us why.

Hilarious.

ARH2006: Blatant Advertising.

Still need an excuse to come see The Armageddon Radio Hour this New Years Eve?



















Well, here are SEVEN Absolutely Convincing reasons to come!

#1 This dapper young man will tongue-kiss you during the post-show reception. (This offer is even extended to the male audience members.)



















#2 People do UNUSUAL THINGS with their hands in this show.



















#3 Patrick Brennan screams EVERY line of dialogue. Literally. He makes this face for the entire show.



















#4 An intregal part of the rehearsal process, has Actor Paul Imboden being kept sequestered from the rest of the cast at all times. Odds are very good that he will be performing behind an opaque, black scrim for the show, as well. (And honestly, it's better that way.)



















#5 Lesbians. Pretty ones.



















#6 Jeffrey Shivar is still allowed to perform with the show, as his conviction hasn't come through yet and the prosecuting attorney hasn't exactly proven that Shivar killed that family.



















#7 Ridiculous Moustaches.



You'll be wanting a link to buy tickets now, won't you?
Well, here you go!

Cheers,
Mr.B

All The Cutting Edge Fashionistas Want To Know About...

Another Long Overdue Apology.

Remember this post?
Remember this postscript?

Yeah, well, nevermind.

Over the Christmas break, on a whim, I sat down and watched RENT; the movie on Widescreen on my parents lovely HD, ginormous screen. In one sitting. With no bathroom break. Absolutely mesmerized.

I was won over by "Light My Candle" and also particularly loved "The Tango Maureen" too. ("Light My Candle" reminds me of how my recent ex used to flirt with me in the bars. And my absolute inability to respond in any sort of coherent, charming, confident way.)
Also, I dug "Santa Fe".
Also, Mimi's section of "Another Day".
Also, "Out Tonight".
Also, "Rent".
Also, "You'll See".

You'll note that I am much fonder of the first act than the second. I recognize that the ending with Mimi's pseudo-death is a little maudlin and I'm not entirely on board with the whole concept that Roger is some sort of master musician. Maybe that's more a reflection of my lack of respect for "Rock and Roll" guys.

Anyways, I loved it.
I watched it on Friday night.

On Saturday, I bought the soundtrack from Itunes. (I listened to the Broadway recording and decided that I actually like Rosario Dawsons voice much more than the original Mimi's. So, I bought the extended Movie Soundtrack.

Saturday afternoon, I bought a used copy of the movie on sale from a Louisville resale shop.

On Tuesday, I spent two hours on the movie's blog site, watching videos of the cast, talking about the show.

Next week, I'm buying Anthony Rapp's book about the process of bringing the play to the stage.

I guess you could say that I jumped in about as deeply as I possibly could, over the holiday weekend. It's a little embarrassing, actually. Basically, I've been walking around all Christmas break looking like these adorable tikes. Only I have my ipod playing in my ears and am only mouthing the words.



Speaking of Rosario Dawson, she owns me, heart and soul and erection. Her turn as Gail in Sin City, both excited and terrified me. (Oh yes, I noticed in the making of materials that Ms. Dawson is a comics nerd. She already knew the material before her agent approached her. Duly noted, Ms. Dawson. Duly Noted.)

According to IMDB, she's also co-created a comic book and her uncle was a comics artist.

Also, she appears to be single, as of November 2006. (Rosario, when you see this and I KNOW you will, call me. I am ready to be your kept man.)

I also suspect that she's a sexual superfreak. I willingly give myself over to the injuries that I would take on, tangling with this little filly. Scratch My Back. Bite My Neck. Crush Me With Your Thighs, you... um. Excuse Me. I seem to have gotten a little off track there.

Suffice it to say, Rosario Dawson is my new Crush. Big time.

Let's get back to the meat of this entry. The forthcoming apology. Here goes!

To The Many, Many, Many People Who Passionately Tried To Convince Me To Listen to "RENT" back in college, Despite My Repeated Diatribes About Why I Never Would "Listen to that Pop-Rock Crap!",

I am sorry.
You were right.
I was wrong.
Dead wrong.
Just about as wrong as I could've been.
It's wonderful.
Sorry that it took me almost nine years before I sat down and gave it a try.
I really, really liked it.

Let us Consider This Matter Closed.

Singing Along in The BackSeat of the Car,
Mr.B

PS. Want to get a taste of what I'm talking about? Check out this clip of Rosario Dawson and Some Guy singing this song about how badly she wants to make mad, crazy monkey love to me. Every time she says, "light my candle", imagine her saying, "give me a weekend-long orgasm." That's what I do.
Enjoy.

Fantastic Four 2: Rise of the Silver Surfer

Well, the first teaser trailer is online. You can check it out here.

First, let me say that I like this new style of teaser. One that just showcases a single action sequence from the movie, without giving away the entire plot. And if they truly ARE going to give the entire Galactus Storyline, then saving that visual is a very good idea. Here's to hoping that more movies give you a short scene to hook your interest and not the entire movie in future trailers.

Second, The Thing looks slightly better in this movie. Good. I HATED how he looked in the first movie. Like a big, orange, weepy turd.

Third, Reed Richards looks tired to me. Maybe it's the actor who is playing him, but his eyes always look puffy to me. Nothing at all like the Reed Richards that I remember from my comics. (Also, he was a humorless retard in the first movie. Someone somewhere once must've told the writers of the first movie, "Reed's shy around girls" and that's the single note that they hit throughout the movie. Which I would like to a movie about Jesus, where he does NOTHING but create fish and loaves of bread of out nothingness for an entire two hour movie. I lament the missed opportunities of the first movie. But then again, I am a nerd.) Let's hope that they return Richards to his level of super-human intelligence in this movie. Let's hope that he's confident and cool and in control again, as he has been in the comics, since the 60's.

Fourth, All right, you've sold me on the Silver Surfer. Both in his look and his movement and his powers set. I like the whole liquid building business. I like how insanely fast he travels. I like him sliding through his boogie board. I like it all. Let's hope that they don't blow their wads on the effects for this one chase sequence and have the big, chrome-head standing around talking for a majority of the movie. He's alien. Let's have him act alien, PUH-LEASE.



Don't fuck this up again, 20th Century Fox. This is your one re-do. Get it right this time.

One more thing for people who actually read comics, check out The Ultimate Galactus trilogy of books in MARVELS Ultimates line. If the idea of a giant purple man fondling the Earth like a big, blue booty that he can't wait to tap is too much for you, this series re-imagines the Galactus storyline in a way that is both intimidating and exciting. Warren Ellis hit the ball out of the park on that one. They are, of course, available in trade paperback form.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Have a Merry Christmas, yal!

Merry Christmas!

I am about to walk out of my office, onto a train, then onto a plane and thenceward to The Bluegrass State for 6 days of much needed rest and relaxation. I don't plan to have a wake-up call for the next four or five days, if I can help it.

When I get back, I'll try to post some pics of interesting things that I saw or did on the trip.

I hope wherever you end up, someone hands you a glass of egg-nog, maybe a surprise present or two but most importantly of all, lets you know how much you're loved and appreciated.

See you on the flip-side!
Mr.B

Put this in your mouth and HUM!

Well, good news!

I finally found a company online, that will ship me a BUNCH of kazoos, cheaply (relatively speaking) in a short time, for Christmas. The good folks at Kazoobie Kazoos sell kazoos in 25 packs. (You can even pick your color. I chose red! For Santa!) And their overnight shipping was cheaper than buying them from local dealers.

Figure that I'll end up paying $1.66 for each of the kazoos that Kazoobie is shipping to me. Uncle Fun wanted $3 per kazoo and The Old Town School of Folk Music wanted $2 per kazoo!

Annnnnnd, if I had contacted Kazoobie before today, like last week, and used their ground shipping, I would've paid roughly a buck per kazoo. Which is the ideal price.

All things considered, I'm just happy to have this issue resolved and ready for the holidays!

Let this be a lesson for you, Kazoo Buyers! Choose Kazoobie for all your Kazoo Needs! (And place the order early, to enjoy cheap shipping!)

Cheers,
Mr.B

Note: Rather than link you to the entry where I already mentioned this and having you dig around for the explanation for this, lemme just recap briefly here. I do a "Visit from Santa Claus" to my step-relatives each year and we usually conclude each visit with a song or two, before we leave the house. THIS year, my Dad and I have put together something special. THIS year, Santa will have kazoos for everybody and we'll all play kazoo Christmas Carols before Santa leaves. Additionally, Santa has already purchased a Soprano Recorder for himself and will be playing THAT along with the family. That's an ADDED surprise for them! THIS is going to by mythically huge. These kids are going to remember THIS Santa visit for years to come! Ho ho ho! That's just what I want!

CoachBob told me I had to see this {Bleep}

Much thanks to Coach Bob for telling me about this and even locating a clip on YouTube. Oh, you Jimmy Kimmel!

Check it out, won't you?



Cheers,
Mr.B

Ready to Set Sail?

Are you gearing up for the May 2007 release of "Pirates of the Caribbean III: At World's End"?

Well, you can bet that these folks are!





Saw these pics online on AICN and wanted to share them with you guys. I really liked both of the first two movies. I'm pretty sure that this one will be pretty great, too!

To read my VERY brief review of Pirates 2, go here.

Yarrgh, me mateys!
Mr.B

A Long Overdue Apology

To The Many, Many, Many People Who Passionately Tried To Convince Me To Watch "Moulin Rouge" Back in 2001, Despite My Repeated Diatribes About Why I Never Would Watch That Movie*,

I am sorry.
You were right.
I was wrong.
Dead wrong.
Just about as wrong as I could've been.
It's a lovely movie.
Sorry that it took me five years before I sat down and watched it.
I really, really liked it.

Let Us Consider This Matter Closed.

With Apologies,
I Remain,
Mr.B

PS. I still refuse to watch RENT, though!

"Le Tango de Roxanne" for your viewing pleasure...




*None of whom actually live in this state anymore, nor even know that I keep a blog. Nonetheless, the apology stands.

The State of the Union of The Greeting Cards Aisle.

I have failed you, Dear Readers, in regards to my duty to monitor the content of the greeting cards section of your local Wal-green. Frankly there are some disturbing trends in greeting cards surfacing now. Maybe if I’d alerted you to them earlier, wee might’ve been able to mobilize some sort of organized response. As it stands, all we can do now is mark the trouble areas and remain vigilant and pray for change.

This is what I’ve observed in a recent visit to the local Wal-Greens Greeting Card Aisle…

President Bush: Greeting Card Whipping Boy.



I counted nearly 6 different birthday cards that trashed the current president.(And one that featured Dick Cheney on the cover, about to shoot you in the face with his cartoonishly big double barrel shotgun. “Hope your birthday is A BLAST!” Yeesh!) On one card, Bush is giving a speech and the names of oil companies are scattered throughout the text of the speech. On another one, Dick Cheney says, “Hey, have you heard that we’re finally getting support in Iraq? I just heard that we’re getting 100 Brazillion troops this year!” Bush says, “That’s great.” Open the card and then he says, “How many is in a Brazillian?" Another one had a GREAT BIG picture of his face and when you opened it, it said, “And you thought that a birthday is the only thing that you had to worry about, today!” Yuk yuk yuk!

The Republican response is pretty pathetic. One card had a picture of George and Laura, and said, “Happy Birthday wishes to a close personal friend from George and Laura!” Inside it said, “Thought this would look good on your desk.” (Although, as I think about it now, that might be a mean thing to send a diehard Dem, if you wanted to grieve them a little bit. Hmm, Passive Aggressive greetings cards. That’s a new concept to me.) There was also a card about Hillary Clinton being the most powerful woman in the free world, but really, c’mon, we all know that’s really Oprah. So, pretty sloppy responses from the Repubs in the greeting cards aisle. Let's get it together, fellas.

My friend Jeff assures me that there’s a HUGE market for Anti-Bush paraphernalia. He says that you walk into any calendar shop and there’s a whole slew of “365 Bushisms in a year!” and “Bush’s Biggest Boners: A Monthly Calendar!” featuring his biggest screw-ups. And I guess we can take it from the greeting card aisle litmus test. If a notion has trickled down into the culture so far that the tired, humorless old biddies who run the greeting card companies are embracing it, than it MUST be widespread. (The other most popular icon on contemporary greeting cards? Napoleon Dynamite. That movie came out in 2004!)

Ah well, mainstream products getting on board with an entire nation scorning their current president is nothing new. I liken our countries disaffection for Bush with how the nation must’ve felt about Nixon, when he was in office. And you can still find traces of Nixon-bashing in videos of shows from the time. This is just more of the same.

In convenient greeting card form.

Nothing says, “Sorry I pushed you down the stairs, baby” like a Greeting Card.

Someone somewhere* once said, “In the Golden Age of Civilization, there will be a greeting card to express literally any and every possible sentiment that you can think of!" We’ve taken one step closer to that Age of Enlightenment with the appearance of the racks of the “Sorry we’re fighting” cards.

You know that you’re delving into subtle gradations of human sentiment when you see the title cards advertising these little jems. Instead of "I'm sorry" or "Making Up", they say, and I am quoting here, “Sorry I’ve been difficult lately” and “Let’s find the love that we used to have again” and “ I’m sorry we’ve been fighting. I love you and need you.” Wow! You can really smell the fresh bloodstains of co-dependance and regret dripping down the sides of the cards, can’t you?

Each card in the “Let this card soothe the emotional damage that I’ve done” series is covered, surface to surface in the most emotionally gentle poetry about “feelings” and “communication” and “remembrances of happier times when we used to talk and love and listen and feeeeeeeeeeel.” Lord A Mighty. The sentiments of shame are buried under so much floral script that you have almost have a hard time peeling back the words to get to the meaning of the card (which is “Sorry. I fucked up.”) I guess some people have a hard time actually saying out loud, “Sorry. I fucked up.” Especially to the person who threw your favorite coffee mug at your head, intending to do you serious bodily damage. And for those special few, these cards exist.

Here’s the thing, though, if I were a girl and I was so pissed off at you that you actually KNEW to go buy a “Sorry. I fucked up” card, the damage is so far done at that point, that a card is only going to compound the issue. I’ll be thinking, “Why didn’t you say any of this shit in person, you miserable, shitheel?!?” See what I mean? NO card is going to erase one of those bloody, horrible, two day fights.

I DID find it hilarious that each one of the “Sorry. I fucked up” cards were relatively male in tone and design. Lots of pictures of horses grazing and soft earth tones. (Apparently, we men do A LOT of apologizing for stuff) Also, each card was gate-folded, so that there was a convenient place for you to include a $20 bill for the recipient. Just like the cards that grandma used to send you!

I found a few cards to be missing from the rack, though. The cards with more specific apologies inside that we fellas might have practical use for. I include them here as a resource for any members of the Greeting Card production community to use, free of charge. I do this not for myself, but for all men.

Someone somewhere please make these cards…

“I’ve tried and I can’t figure out why you’re mad at me. Can I use a lifeline and eliminate two of the possibilities? Or ask the studio audience? C’mon, give me a clue here!”

“Look, I was drunk and that seemed like a funny thing to say at the time. Can you please pass this apology card around to your co-workers for me? Black people really do like me!”

“I swear that I don’t secretly think that your unmotivated body issues are accurate in any way. I love your ass. It gives me huge, raging boners! It’s nowhere near as big as you think that it is. And everything that I say, isn’t a subtle hint that I don’t like it. Also, your boobs are huge and firm and beautiful and when I’m not busy respecting your keen intellect and charming personality, I want to play with them.”

“I don’t do nearly as many chores around the house as you do. And I don’t comment aloud nearly enough, when I’ve noticed that you’ve done them. Because sometimes I’m selfish. Or watching tv. Same thing. Sorry about that. My bad!”

"For all the times that you cleaned out the cat litter box, even though it was my turn and I just pretended that it wasn't, I am sorry and I love you. So does the cat!"

“You are not turning into your mother. Yes, she’s as horrible as you think that she is. And you’re nowhere near as bad as she is. One fight or one freak out about how clean the kitchen is, does not equate your mothers lifelong crusade to destroy your self-esteem and drive your father to hang himself in the garage, using only compliments. Seriously, you’re nothing like that horrible, mean old woman.”

“I’m just tired and lazy and out of shape. That’s why the erections are infrequent and not the colossal, awe-inspiring Monuments to Manliness that we used to enjoy in college. Also, I play with myself too much. I’ll cut down on that and delete some porn off of my secret file on the computer and things will pick up in the bedroom. I promise.”

*I was the Someone Somewhere mentioned in the above paragraph. But it sure sounds like something wise that someone much cooler than me, would've said, doesn't it?

ARH2006: Meeting "Uncle Al"...

Tonight was night 2 of rehearsal for ARH. Lots of singing. Some good, (Everyone else and Group Numbers), Some Bad (My solo numbers are going to take some serious rehearsal at home. It's crazy the amount of rehearsal and preparation goes into this singular performance show. Everyone involved has VERY high expectations for every aspect of the shows performance, though. If all goes according to plan, this should be a really wonderful show. Despite the hard work or Maybe Because of it, I am thoroughly enjoying myself.)

But all that aside, I had a very interesting experience tonight at rehearsal. When I got to the theater, there was an older guy wandering around with a camera, waiting for everyone to get there. Sharko, the piano player and songwriter for the show, apparently knew the old guy and they chatted together for a while.

I thought that the guy looked familiar to me, but I couldn't place him, for the life of me. Finally, I called Jen over and asked her who he was. "Oh, that's Ken," she said. "He's a regular around WNEP shows and is taking pictures for us tonight. He used to do a bunch of stuff with Annoyance."

"Really? Say, wasn't he Uncle Al in the Belmont Burlesque Review?" I was starting to put the pieces together.

"Yeah, yeah, I think he was." she said.

"Crazy. I play that part now. When he had to leave the show, I took over his job for him. I've never met him before. I've only seen him perform in the show, before I took over. Small world, huh."

"You should go talk to him. He's a really nice guy," she said and she wandered off to go do more important things.

I waited a second and then slowly made my way over to Sharko and Ken talking. Mary Jo, another cast member, showed up and listened in to them talking. Sharko got called away to set up the piano and I took the chance to introduce myself.

"Hi. Ken? My name is Mr.B and I'm in the cast of the Radio Hour. I was just standing over there trying to place you, but you used to be Uncle Al in the Belmont Burlesque Review, weren't you?"

"Yeah, I sure was." he said. Nice as could be.

"I saw the show two or three times. I'm friends with Hendo. Let's see, I saw the Halloween show. Weren't you dressed as Hunter S Thompsen?" I asked.

"That's right. That was a while ago. You have a good memory." If he was wary at all about who I was, I think that was starting to shake off.

"Well, I was a big fan of the show. And didn't you do the Vegas show too?"

"Yeah, we DID do a Vegas show. Man, that was years ago. It's crazy that you remember all of that stuff. I can't do the show anymore. My work schedule was getting crazy and those guys needed more of a commitment than I could give them. So, I had to step away. But I sure did love doing that show," he said. "I used to do everything I could to yank Hendo's chain onstage. Just to see if I could get him to break. I usually couldn't, but it sure was fun trying."

"Yeah, that's a damned fine show," I said.

We went on and talked about other old shows and movies. He mentioned "Coed Prison Sluts" and Mary Jo sang a few bars from it, but I didn't know it. Ken is also a 3 Stooges fan and we talked about that for a while. Ken was talking about a video that he'd brought in to show Don. He chuckled to himself to recall funny bits. At one point, he got up and acted out a bit that Mo Howard and Ted Heeley did together. We puzzled out the meaning behind one bit that was almost too archaic to be funny. I'm sure whatever it was, was a riot in the 1930s.

I shared a story that I'd just recently read about Jack Benny. (I've been doing some research about Old Time Radio guys for this show.) Ken hadn't heard it, but he appreciated it. He's a Jack Benny fan, too.

Shortly thereafter, he got called away to help with something and I got tied up rehearsing music for the show and running jingles over and over again. We didn't get to talk again for the rest of the night.

I never told him that I play his old part in the BBR. It just didn't seem right, at the time. He clearly has a fond place in his heart for the show. And he didn't leave by choice. He just did what he had to do, to keep his job and to let the BBR move on without him. I'm sure that wasn't a fun decision to make. Or an easy one. And I imagine having some young, fat, French-dialected fop come up saying, "Hey man, I got your old part in that show that you loved," would be an awkward way of starting up a friendship. So, I left that unsaid.

Really, how much of a loss is that, anyways? I made a new friend. I talked about stuff that interests me with someone that loves the BBR as much as I do. I made a direct, personable connection with the history of the show and I did it in a way that he'll be comfortable and happy to see me, the next time that we run into each other. I see that as a "Win-win" situation.

ARH2006: Unleashing My Inner Frenchman...

"Tangerine".

That's the safety word that I've worked out with the girls in the cast of the Armageddon Radio Hour, in case my in-character behavior ever actually creeps them out. All they have to do is look me in the eyes and say, "Tangerine" and I step back and drop the schtick.
It's the safe word.
The reserve 'chute.
The fire exit.
I suggested that we put it in place, because I am going to mercilessly and aggressively pursue these women (all of them, really) throughout the entire rehearsal process and the performance. My characters goal is to sleep with them all, if at all possible.

It is, to my mind, as if someone has taken a hot, sexy, musky French sex-bomb and set it off in the midst of these quiet, conservative, uptight, white wasps. The men are a little nervous. The women are all aroused and terrified at the same time. The smell of sex is in the air and everyone is reacting to it, in some capacity. I think it's HILARIOUS.

Of course, I am speaking about our first rehearsal of the Armageddon Radio Hour. Which was last night. I had a blast. I look back at the things that I did and said last night and I am both amused and amazed, at the things that I got away with.

You'll know from reading this blog entry that I already have a lover in the show. Joanna Buese is playing "Marie Claire Pierre". My wife. I treat her more like a mistress and lover and a partner in the scandals that I'm planning on getting away with. To me, she is the most sensual, most beautiful women that I happen to be talking about, at that time. For Maurice "Tou Tou" LaMarche, one woman is as good as another. Each one is better than the next...

That's what I found at the rehearsal last night. I am going to seduce all three of the available women in this show.

It started in the "walk around and find your character" exercise that we did at the beginning of rehearsal. I pulled my trousers up and stuck out my groin area and began walking around with that "snotty, bemused" look that people who don't really understand the language, sometimes affect. I piled as much bullshit on my face and posture and gait as I possibly could. LaMarche is not, as it turns out, a very subtle man.

While we meandered around, we made eye contact with one another. I found that I had a vague, pleasant feeling around the men. But that I was clear and focused and fearless about making eye contact with the women. My wife, Marie Claire, and I would look at each other and smile pleasantly. If I made eye contact with Jen Ellison's Molly, she would look away immediately. Which of course, drew me in, that much more. Later, as we randomly meandered around, my left elbow brushed up against her breast. Totally accidentally, but when I saw it was her, I stopped and apologized, she scurried away, getting as far from me, as possible. A very fun game of cat and mouse.

When we were to speak, in character, about ourselves, I was the first one to volunteer immediately. I figured that LaMarche would have NO problems talking about himself. And that his generally cheerful personality would spur him to volunteer to go first. I can't remember half of what I said as LaMarche to the questions that Don asked me. I learned that LaMarche has no contact with his father. (No surprise there, since he's inappropriately masculine. Having a father figure would've, I think, tempered that.) He's a dedicated hedonist. His favorite holiday is his birthday. For obvious reasons. He also thinks he's probably the funniest person in the room, at all times. But he's shy about admitting that.

I was pleased to hear that I got very positive reactions from Don and the other producer, who was watching the rehearsal. I also got some laughs from the other actors, so that made me feel like I was on the right track.

One by one, the other actors got up and spoke about their characters, answering information about themselves. I chose to stay in character, as did many of my other fellow actors and while we listened to these characters talk about themselves, we ALSO interacted with one another. When Marie Claire took the hot seat, I sat in a chair near her and smiled and listened and nodded appreciatively. I also stared down Molly and Kitty, the other women in the company, undressing them with my eyes. Molly caught it and tensed up appropriately.

When Marie finished her speech and came back to the cast, I used that as my opportunity to cross the stage and take up a place next to Molly. She didn't see me come over and so when she looked to her right and I was already there, she was visibly shocked. While Patrick Brennan talked to us as Packy, I edged closer and closer to Molly on the wall. She edged farther and farther away from me, until she was firmly wedged in between Kittys chair and the wall. With nowhere else to go, I had her trapped. I leaned in and gently laid my arm against her arm. (Still a move that I could deny, if she called me out on it.) She froze up and went stiff as a board. I chuckled out of character.

Shortly thereafter, Packy finished his section and before Don could call for another volunteer, Molly leapt forward and cheerfully yelped, "I'll do it!" and threw herself into the hot-seat. Jen then shared with us a really fascinating background for Molly. (I think she might've murdered her mother.) But she's a bundle of raw nerves at all times. Very jumpy. Which explains the moves that I was getting.

Midway through her introduction, I settled my hand on Kitty's shoulder and she leaned back into me and I proceeded to spend my stage time seducing her, too. Hilarious! By the time it was all said and done, my hand was firmly on her shoulder and I was breathing heavily to indicate my building lust. Ha ha ha! So funny. We were both working to NOT be discovered, as we seduced or were seduced by the other person. I honestly think that the other cast members and Don didn't pick up on it at all.

Later, we did silent scenes together and even before we started, I leaned back and stared silently and sexily at Molly. She froze up and looked away. So much fun, the cat and mouse game that we were playing.

When she got called for her silent scene, she came and grabbed me to join her onstage. Don chose "Sentimental Mood" as our song and I spent the whole song chasing after her. Jen surprised me, by having Molly check to see if the coast was clear before accepting my cigarettes or sitting on my lap. Molly WANTS to be a bad girl, but she's afraid of someone catching her. Which gives the character so much more depth than playing the whole "No. Nothing fun or sexy, ever!" mentality, which only goes so far.

Later, we ran a scene with the three men of the show and while they read the newspaper, I was bored, bored, bored. I was even looking offstage for someone else to talk to. When Molly entered the scene, both Michael and I jumped at the chance to dote on her and there was a very nice little rivalry there. I think we can explore that a little further in scenes. That's an interesting triangle, if you ask me.

At one point, it even looked as if Marie Claire was thinking about sleeping with Molly and THAT had power, too. Clearly the Francophiles are there to defile this poor, emotionally shattered, terribly repressed classic, American engenue.

Did I mention that I secretly suspect that Maurice is also a pretty terrible, selfish lover? I think he gets what he wants quickly and easily and then needs lots of breaks to drink more and talk about himself. But that eventually he gets back around to servicing the woman. I think that what he lacks in quality, he makes up for in consistency and pleasantry. With Maurice, you won't get off quickly, but you will, eventually, get off. Probably.

And he, of course, has no idea and considers himself to be a very successful lover. I mean, He's having a blast, each and every time.

Yes, so, last night was about pushing some boundaries and staking claims on all the women. They can see now that I'll be hound-dogging them whenever I can. I don't know how far this can all go onstage (does Don want silent, pantomimed sex onstage during his show? Is that possible? Or desirable? Stuff to figure out in subsequent rehearsals.)

Tonight, we work through the scenes of the show and see what goodness we can mine from that. This show is a pleasure!

Cheers,
Mr

The Pink Panther Entry.

So, a little history for you.

In 1963, Blake Edwards sets out to make a screwball comedy about a charming jewel thief who seduces a princess and eventually makes away with her rare, pink panther diamond. During the course of the filming, a secondary character, Inspector Jacques Clouseau, played by Peter Sellers, instantly wins over the hearts of the crew and Edwards himself. The film is expanded to include more Clouseau and subsequent sequels focus on that character. (Even though the original plan was to focus on Nivens charming jewel thief character. Ah well. Cest La Vie!)

That movie is Blake Edwards, The Pink Panther.

To begin his movie, Edwards orders a cartoon sequence featuring the Pink Panther itself (In the movie, the PP is a flaw in a diamond that is sort of panther shaped.) This is the opening credits from that movie. This first time anyone anywhere ever saw The Pink Panther.



The cartoon character of the Pink Panther is so popular that it eventually gets expanded a year later into a series of very popular cartoon shorts. This next clip, "Pink Phink" is the first of that series. Check it out!



This cartoon short is "Dial P for Pink" and it's got to be one of my favorites ever. It's the same bit OVER and OVER again, but it just kills me.



Now then, where does all of this come from?
Why am I dropping these little video gems about The Pink Panther?

Well, today I stayed home sick from work. Nose stopped up, coughing, running a nasty fever, I laid on the couch and watched the 1963 Pink Panther movie. And in the middle of the film, for no reason whatsoever, there's a music video of Fran Jeffries singing "Meglio Stasera" in the ski chalet.

There just happens to be a samba band there.
And this guest in the ski chalet (whom we've never seen before) just begins singing and dancing around and not only is everyone cool with it, but they get up and dance with her.

It's a silly little note in a silly little movie and the sheer 1960's grooviness of it all (from the unrestrained ebulliance of the spectators to Jeffries slinky, minimalist dance moves) makes me wish that I was much, much cooler than I am. Or that I lived in a cooler time than I do.

Want to see what I'm talking about?

Here, check it out. (God Bless The YouTube, eh?)



(Hey, the original Pink Panther was shot in 70mm. How cool is that?)

Leading the samba dance of only one person through his empty apartment,
Mr.B

Is it still Thanksgiving?

Can I still be thankful for Girl-on-girl makeout sessions?

Can I AT LEAST be thankful for this guys editing, his picture selection and his musical choice?

Because I AM!

Enjoy,
Mr.B

(You may want to wait until you're home to watch this. You'll want the sound to enhance the experience.)

A Visit from St. Nick: 2006

(Hey Gang! If you want to see a larger version of any of the pics, click on it and it'll open up in another window. Hover your cursor in the lower right hand corner of the larger pic and it'll give you the option to make it even larger. If you want to...)

Every year, at the end of November and the start of December, I fly back to my home state of Kentucky and do an appearance as Santa Claus for a local church benefit. My first visit was in 2004. My mom knew that I've been playing Santa for my stepmothers family for 8 or 9 years now. When her friend, Mary Anne, contacted her and asked her if she knew of anyone who would play Santa for the benefit, my mom said she knew of one top-notch Santa. She contacted me and asked me if I would make an appearance. The church would buy my plane ticket back home, all I had to do was the short visit to the benefit and I would have the rest of the weekend to visit with family and friends. I agreed.

My first visit was in December, 2004. It went smashingly. My mom overheard one guy say to his friend, "You know what? If I wasn't an adult and knew better, I would say that THAT was the real Santa. I don't think I've ever seen a better one." And that sealed the deal for me. I don't do the gig because of the accolades or the plane ticket or the free weekend home with my mom, but because I like the idea of reaching out to a mass of people and bringing something magical and amazing into their lives for a little bit. I don't want to be A Santa. I want to be The Santa and I want them to believe in him, if only just a little bit.

My mom photographed the visit this year. (As she did in 2004 and 2005, too.) I've taken some of her pictures and assembled them here to give you an idea of what a typical visit from Santa is like for me and for the kids.

The Look.

First, a few words about the suit. I got the suit in 2002 from my good friend, the amazingly talented, Miss Vicky. Miss Vicky is a Chicago area costumer. It's what she does for a living. Make other people look amazing on Chicago stages. So, when I knew I wanted something special to be built, there was no one better to go to.
I traveled to her loft apartment, down in Cicero for my first fitting. I wore a sweatsuit, per her suggestion, and when I got there, I found a pile of pillows waiting for me. She and her roommate, Patrick, stuffed both the top and the bottom of the suit until I was perfectly Santa-shaped. And then she took my measurements. This Santa was going to be a big, big mountain of a man.
Once she had the measurements and the pillows removed, we sat down and began doing sketches of the character. I'd decided that I wanted a more traditional, "Father Christmas" style suit for my Santa. I wanted a long coat, down past the knees. I wanted big, billowy sleeves. I wanted a big, black belt and a brass buckle up front. Most importantly, I wanted to lose the American Santas pointy hat and ball and give my Santa a hood. I felt that the "uniqueness" of the suit would offset the viewer. The child and the parent that saw my Santa would think, "Hey, that's not the Santa that I am used to" and within that thought, the seed of belief would be laid. THIS Santa could just possibly be the Santa that all of the others were based upon. That's the idea, anyways. (And when my mom heard that guy say what he said, I knew that it worked.)

For added realism, I've added a few personal touches to the suit. The boots have reindeer bells on them. So, you LITERALLY hear Jingle Bells, with every step that he takes. Also, I've added pouches around his belt for storing important items. Usually, they get loaded with candy canes for big visits, but they have all sorts of surprises in them. (More on that, later.) My inspiration for those was, believe it or not, Batman. And his marvelous utility belt. I figured that Santa would have a whole work table full of pouches and whenever he leaves the North Pole, he would look through them and take the things that he needs and leave behind the things that he wouldn't need. Switching out the pouches for each visit. For the final touch, I added Aviation Goggles to my suit, too. (Inspiration? Starman, of course.) I figured that Santa would need something to protect his eyes, when he's driving the sleigh. On my first visit, one of the dads asked, "Hey Santa, what're the goggles for?" And I replied, "Well, son. When you're piloting a sleigh at 2,000 miles per hour, you don't want to get hit in the eye with a bug, do you? It hurts like the dickens, so, I got these dandy goggles and they do the trick, just fine!" The dad thought about it and said, "Huh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense." And in that instant, the goggles paid for themselves.

I've had two other Santa suits before. In the winter of 2002, my dad suggested that he and I might get a Santa suit and that I would show up at his house to pick up my baby nephews Christmas List. We videotaped that first visit. And as silly and goofy as the Wal-Mart purchased suit looked, my nephew absolutely believed that he was looking at THE SANTA CLAUS. He invited me in and showed me every toy under the tree and his favorite ornaments and everything else that he could think of, to keep Santa there. It was a very sweet visit. We usually watch the tape each year and although he blushes to see how young he was then, we still love the whole thing.

We had to retire the Wal-Mart purchased Santa Suits, though, after The Tragic 2001 Ass Blow-Out. To properly pad out that suit, I wore a big belly pillow and another pillow in the back of the pants, to give Santa a rotund bottom. My entrance to my stepmothers family's house went letter perfect. And I had no trouble being lead by the kids to big, comfy chair where Santa sat and passed out presents to the kids. I took a dozen pictures with the kids and all was well. When I tried to stand up, though, disaster struck! The back of my coat had raised up, even as the pants had lowered down and the pillow in the back of my pants blossomed forth, un restrained. The kids all breathed in a scared breath of disbelief. This Santa stuffed his pants! My dad leaped to my side and we made a comical sketch out of him shoving the pillow back into my trousers and I said, "Well, you kinda havta wear that. The benches in my sleigh can be awfully stiff, sometimes. And my bottom gets sore." Maybe the kids believed it. Maybe not. But I walked out of there, vowing to myself that we were going to retire the Wal-Mart suit, THEN and THERE.
And that's why I went to Miss Vicky to get her help in building the suit you see here.

But enough backstory, let me turn this entry over to pictures from this years visit. I've scattered a few pics from the 2004 visit in here too, to flesh out the visit a bit. But since the visits are usually kept on the same schedule, you probably won't notice the difference.

The Entrance.

So, the first thing that happens, after Santa gets dressed at home, is that he gets delivered to the church, by his number one elf, My Stepdad, Mike. (That's him in the sunglasses, in the picture below.) Santa's a big man. He takes big strides. That's just how he walks. Mythically.


The first order of business is to load up his belt pouches with candy canes for the kids. We've learned from previous experience to actually tighten up the belt a bit, or the weight of the candy canes will nearly pull the belt down. I spent most of the 2004 visit, holding up my belt, until I could drop some candy-cane ballast.
In this pic, a few folks left the church a little early and had a chat with Santa, before they took off. They probably walked away with a smile, but definitely walked away with a candy cane!


Occasionally, a few kids find Santa outside, before he makes his entrance. I like to spend a little one-on-one time with them. I give them big hugs and find out what they want for Christmas. I ask mom (or dad) if they've been good and usually they are.
Look, how startling red that coat is in the sunlight. Now THAT is what Santa's coat should look like.


I sat down on the steps with these two tykes, to get down on their level. I have a re-occurring bit where Santa is too old to get up and down gracefully. I have to ask the youngsters to help me stand up and they get a pretty big kick out of that.


Once I actually enter the church gym, I kinda like to sneak in the side door a bit. (Well, as much as a six foot tall, scarlet-clad international icon, can sneak anywhere.) There is a delicious moment where I am there and plainly in view and the kids haven't noticed me yet and I know that in about five seconds, all Hell is About to Break Loose. I like that moment.


More sneaking, Sneak, Sneak, Sneak!


Finally, haven played his little joke, by entering undetected, my Santa launches into a fine, big, "Merrrrrrrrrry Christmasss, Everybody!" Santa speaks in a deep, booming, voice. Loud, loud, loud!


And it has to be, because THIS is his audience. This widescreen, photo, landscape is what I see from that door, when I walk in. Tons of people in a large gym, with pockets of kids running all over the place.
Kudos for Kevin Taylor for noticing the little boy who was in all three of the montage photos. It was his suggestion that I trace his journey, ala Billy from The Family Circus. That was a very clever idea. (You'll have to click on it, to see what I'm talking about.)
So, this is my audience.


The Setting.

The church provides a fine spread of goodies for everyone to enjoy. As you can guess, the kids are pretty much hopped up on Sugar, when I finally get there.


There's a whole host of holiday themed activities for the kids to enjoy. This year, they could make their own tiny Christmas trees, complete with tiny ornaments and tiny garlands. Despite the fact that nary a single child is captured in this pic, trust me, they were very popular!


If they didn't want a REAL tree, they could also make these "decorate your own" 2 dimensional trees.


There was festive holiday themed face painting. (Somebody looks grumpy!)


Or if you're a cool dude, you can get your hands painted. (I think this little guy is adorable!)


Or you could also make your own Gumdrop tree. This little girl is proud to death of her creation!


This year they also got foam reindeer antlers, which were a big hit with the kids, too!


These little guys are burning off some energy in the flexible tunnel in the middle of the room.


The Visit.

Back to the appearance, this little guy was the first one to see me and he ran across the room as fast as he could and JUMPED up into my arms. I half caught him around the waist and for a second there, before we were mobbed, I swung him in the air a bit. My Santa is a playful guy.


The kids love to get hugs from my Santa. Accordingly, because I KNOW that I'll be up close and personal with the kids, the coat gets a thorough Febreezing before it gets worn. I want my Santa to smell nice, too.


So, this is Santa, being mobbed by the kids, giving out candy canes. I tell them that "Ms. Clause, always loads me up with so much candy, to keep my energy up. " And I love sharing them with my new friends. Of those nearly 60 or 70 candy canes that they loaded me up with, I made it out of there, with less than 10.


In addition to the giving of candy canes and other small toys, I also take some time to field questions from curious kids. I think that this sort of one-on-one time with the big man is critical to the visit's success. Mall Santa's don't give you much more attention, than to ask "Whaddya want"? and if "You've been good this year?" My Santa stops and listens and tries to give his attention to each and every child. And he looks them in the eye and listens to whatever they want to say. Because to a little boy or girl, getting some face time with Big Red is what it's all about.


This little girl is assuring me that her chimney is wide enough to accommodate my Christmas Eve arrival. (When kids ask me how I'll get in, if they don't have a chimney, I say, "Mom and Dad usually leave a door unlocked for me. They usually know that I'm coming.") Next year, we're adding a golden key on a golden chain. Which can open any door in the world. Handy, if kids don't have chimney. (And it's another item for them to touch and check out, while I'm there.)


You see, this Santa costume is also a Hands On Exhibit for little hands. Each one of my belt pouches has some sort of interesting thing in them. The light green pouch has "Pretty Rocks that I've collected on some of my Christmas Eve trips." The maroon pouch has pixie dust in it that they can stick their hands in and wiggle around in. I keep tootsie rolls in another pouch "for a quick snack" and this blue pouch has "Reindeer Chow" in it, which they can squeeze and feel. If they actually take some out and taste it, it'll taste like apples and cinnamon oatmeal. Because that's what it is. It's there more for them to feel the sensation of it being in his bag.
Next year, we're adding a brass periscope for him. He'll need it, when he's navigating his reindeer sleigh.


This year, the church gave Santa a bagful of foam balls to give out to the kids. They were very popular and went like hotcakes.
Some kids were too small to get my attention in the scramble to get the presents. This little guy REALLY wanted a ball, but got lost in the sea of hands, reaching for them. My grandfather saw him skulking away and scooped him up. He called to Santa Claus and asked him if this little boy might get a ball too.


While I was trying to dig in the bag and get him one, he caught my mom taking his picture and flashed her this "Whatchoo takin' my picture for, Willis?" look.


Finally, he took matters into his own hand and got down and looked in the bag with me. That's a classic picture of a little kid, looking for a present inside Santa's gift bag. Adorable!


My Santa is a big man. And it helps that his audience is a bunch of half pints. These little girls LOVED having me there. They quizzed me on whether they were on the "Nice List" or not. I looked down at their name tags and said, "Lindsey and Veronica? Why, yes, I DO believe that you're on my Nice List!"
Which reminds me, that I need to make up two scrolls, One for Nice and another for Naughty and add them to the belt for next year.
The green scarf that you see there, was hand knitted by my grandmother. It pleased her to no end, to see Santa wearing it proudly, this year. It fits the design scheme for the suit, I'm happy to display it!
In this picture, you can see the pocket watch that Santa checks to tell him when the visit is done. When the kids ask where I got it, I tell them that my friend, The Conductor of the Polar Express gave it to me. Squeals of delight follow, shortly thereafter.


Another big part of the visit, is getting our picture taken with the many families there. These folks right here, LOVE visit from Santa and come every year. The little girl closest to me, is "Hannah". I remember her from both of my last two visits and when I saw her and recognized her and called her by name, she squealed and told her dad, "He remembers me!"


Me and Hannah. We're both saying, "Fudge Brownies" or something else ridiculous, when we get our picture taken. For some reason, I also like to point at the camera, as if the child doesn't know where to look. It gives me something to do with my hands, I guess.


I wish I could remember this little guys name, but he was ECSTATIC to see Santa, this year. I've never seen him before, but man, he was a fan. Big time. We got our picture taken and then...


..he grabbed me by the hand and lead me through the crowd to somewhere. (Check out the little girl that we're about to pass by. I think she's about to drop a fruitcake in her diapers, if you know what I mean! Hilarious!)


Turns out that he wanted me to meet his mom! She laughed and laughed, so embarrased to have Santa forcefully kidnapped and drug over to her. I gave her a candy cane and asked if she wanted a picture of us with her little boy.


We took this picture, right here! (I helpfully pointed out the camera again. Not that it was any help, the little guy was looking at something cool, to our right!)


This little boy brought me this present to thank me for the presents that I've brought to him. It's a tiny ice-cream cone Christmas tree, with green icing on it, and powdered sugar sprinkled on it. Technically speaking, this is version 2.0. I didn't see him, when he snuck up on me with the first one and with one big wave of my Santa-hands, I knocked it clean across the room. I apologized to him over and over and thanked him for the lovely treat. He didn't cry or anything. He just snuck off and made me another one, without being asked to.
When he brought me the second one, I hugged him and thanked him and told him that he was a very Sweet Boy. And that his name was definitely on the Nice List. Which was when this picture was taken.


The last thing that Santa does on a visit, is to call out the names of people who've won prizes. Small teddy bears and tiny statues of Santa Claus, they're all stocking stuffers. But the kids take this prize section very seriously and wait with baited breath to win something.


On my way out, the kids get a few more hugs from Santa and a little more quality time. Once the realize that I'm leaving, there's a sort of scramble to say any last minute things that they might've forgotten. This little angel just wanted a hug and when I saw the picture that my mom took, my mean old, cynical heart broke just a little bit. This little girl had the best visit with Santa ever. THIS is my payment for doing the gig. She believes in Santa, with all of her heart. And that's truly magical.
I love this picture.


After the visit is over, the adults restrain the kids who would want to see "Santa riding off with the reindeer" and I wave my last goodbyes and wander down the street, humming "Carol of the Bells" to myself. A block away, I get to my stepdads truck and pop open the back door and collapse inside. I lay down, so that no curious kids will see me in there until we're well away. Usually, after a 30 - 45 minute visit, I am SO exhausted that I can barely move. I head home, change out of the suit, hang it up to dry and drink nearly a gallon of cold water, to re-hydrate.



In addition to THIS gig as Santa, I also keep doing the visits to my step-mothers family. We give out presents and sing Christmas songs and take loads of pictures. That's a particularly fertile family and there's always a dozen or more kids there. Those visits are a treat, too. The whole family looks forward to them. Later, after I've changed and come in to visit "out of character" the adults make their way to me and whisper a sly, "Nice visit, Chris Kringle" and that makes my night, too.

To me, these visits as Santa are as much a part of the holiday season as shopping, opening presents and stuffing my belly full of food. I've been doing it for so long now, that I can't imagine doing anything else on that evening. And honestly, I love it. I really, really love it. More than spreading holiday cheer, I am spreading belief in the One True Santa and that's what Christmas means to me.

Merry Christmas, Everyone.

Mr.B